BlueEyed Killer
by Heel Princess
Summary: Short series, AU Randy Orton as a serial killer, and Kelly Kelly/Barbie Blank as a new crime reporter. Warnings: Mentions death, killingg, ect some sexuality...
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey guys just a random little one-shot for you guys, really different from anything i've ever written... hope you enjoyyy and please review**_

_I didn't want to write this story in the first place_, she told herself, fumbling through her purse for a pen.

"You're the most disorganized one yet."

Barbie jumped, her eyes locking onto his, the appropriately named "Blue-eyed killer". She had somehow forgotten that he was going to be there, even if she had come there with the sole purpose of talking with him. "Excuse me?"

He smiled, his ankle shackles rattling as he sat down in his chair and leaned forward towards the glass between them, "I said you're the most disorganized reporter I've seen so far, although I must say you are by far the prettiest.."

She tried not to blush, but his smooth voice and boyish good looks made it very difficult. _Snap out of it Babs, he's a serial killer for Christ's sake. _The blonde woman smiled back at him politely, "You spend your day surrounded by nothing but men, I'm not sure I should be flattered."

A smirk washed over his face, "And she's witty too."

Once again Barbie had to remind herself that he had brutally murdered five people, and that he probably wouldn't have stopped there, but that didn't make him any less charming. She decided that it was better just to ignore his advances, "Let's get to it shall we?"

Folding his hands behind his head Randy leaned back on his chair, "Ask away..."

She nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and let out a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding in, "Well I guess the obvious question is why did you kill all those women..."

Randy shrugged, "I don't know, why do people do anything?"

Closing her notebook she stood up, "I tried, I guess I'll just go tell my boss that you wouldn't talk to me just like all the others."

He licked his lips as his eyes fixated on her round backside, perfectly accentuated by her tight pencil skirt, the slit just high enough that his imagination was running wild with thoughts of what was beneath the black fabric, "I'll talk."

Barbie slowly turned back around, "No bullshit?"

Another smirk... "No bullshit."

Sitting back down she crossed her legs, and pulled her pen out from where she had wedged it into her bun moments earlier, "The papers say you strangled them all...then opened them up autopsy style."

He nodded, "That is what they say..."

An eyebrow rose, "So are you saying you didn't?"

"I'm saying I don't remember," Randy shot back, "I'd black out and wake up covered in blood, my apartment a mess and a dead girl in my bathtub."

The room suddenly felt colder and a shiver ran up her spin, "The reports also say that you've had anger issues your whole life, that you strangled neighbours cats as a child, and other sadistic behaviour."

Randy nodded again, "I never had a father growing up."

"Neither did I, you don't see me running around killing people..." She barked, finding herself angered that he would use the tired old story of an absent father.

Once again he smiled, "You're feisty.. I like that."

"Mr. Orton can we please get on with the interview?"

A wink was sent in her direction, "I'd rather get on you." He whispered, his mouth millimetres away from the holes in the window.

She ignored him, looking away and pulling at the collar of her white blouse. When she turned back around he was smirking again, "Am I making you uncomfortable miss... I'm sorry I didn't catch you're name..."

"Miss Blank."

"Miss Blank," He repeated.

Barbie couldn't control her thoughts, somehow the idea of it all seemed strangely erotic. And as Randy pressed his hand to the glass she couldn't help but imagine it running down her stomach, her own hands gripping at his strong broad shoulders.

She felt sick thinking about a cold blooded killer like that, and tried her best to shake it all off and continue... "I don't believe that you don't remember."

"Why's that?"

Smiling she turned a page in her notebook, ferociously scribbling in it, "Because you have psychotic tendency's Mr. Orton, The police say you showed no emotion when they showed you the photos of your butchered victims."

Another shrug, "I blame it on the desensitization of the public in general."

"I can see that I'm getting no where, lets try moving on." She told him, her voice full of frustration, "Why did you pick the women you did? Reports say none of them had anything in common, they ranged in age from 17-34, some had light hair, some dark.. most were Caucasian but one was Latina breaking that pattern. So how did you pick them?"

He laid his head on his hands, resting on his elbows, "Simple, they all picked me. Every damn one of them blatantly threw themselves at me."

"Which leads me to my next question.. Did you have sex with all the victims?"

Randy's lips drew up in a grin, "Hot torrid sex with every last one of um."

"Shelly Cole was only seventeen years old..."

He looked at her with no expression and no sign of remorse as he spoke, "Innocence is fleeting, she was far from a little girl."

Barbie could tell by the way he kept his sentences short that he was closing himself off from her, she had to hurry on with her questions before he gave up answering completely, "I see... well my notes also tell me that you worked security in a morgue, so you had opportunity to see the Y-shaped autopsy style incision that you used on your victims."

"Sure, but I could have easily seen it on C.S.I."

Aggravated with him she fired back again, "But you're an avid hunter correct? That would make you more comfortable around blood, and with cutting flesh."

"You've got it all figured out don't you.."

A self satisfied smile emerged on her face, "Everything but why you didn't plead insanity.. it's obvious that you're a seriously disturbed individual."

"Well there's something I'd like to know Miss Blank.."

The blonde uncrossed and recrossed her legs, his eyes followed, hoping for a little peak. "Which is?"

"What your insides look like."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok so the muse is strong for thia one ahaha , so ive changed my mind and decieded to make it a short series... like 4-6 partss :) Review pleaseee :)**

Randy Orton had effectively put the fear of god in her, but somehow that didn't stop her from visiting him everyday for the rest of the month. He consumed her thoughts, Barbie just felt like she needed to understand him, like it was up to her to piece together the story of this psycho.

His malicious and disturbing thoughts only seemed to intrigue her more, and make her even more determined to figure out how a human being could whined up such a monster. She wanted to dig deep into his psyche and riffle through his shadowed past if it was the last thing she ever did.

"Good afternoon Barbie," The St. Louis native said drying, pursing his lips as he spoke.

She was startled, and her hand instantly clutched at her chest, "How do you know my first name?"

He laughed, "The guards were talking about you're tight little body, and I'm assuming they know you're name from the sign in sheet. Funny, most reporters use aliases."

Taking a seat she tried not to let him get to her, "I do when I write, but when I'm here I want you to feel like I'm just another..."

"Victim?" He asked smiling, cutting her off.

"I was going to say person."

His eye's strayed to the clock behind her, "You're late today."

Following his line of vision she too stared at the ticking hands, "I had things to do."

"Is something more important then our time together?"

She glared at him, trying to strip him of his false sense of power, "Don't flatter yourself Orton, anything is more important than you."

A smirk came across his chiselled face, "Then why do you keep coming back?"

This time she was the one to be blunt, "It's my job."

He leaned foreword, "I think when I propositioned cutting you open it constituted as grounds for terminating your little story, or at least reassigning it to someone else..."

"I'm not a quitter.. nor do I scare easy."

Randy suddenly pounded his fist against the window and the blonde instinctively jumped, he once again smirked at her, "I beg to differ..."

Embarrassed she reached into her bag for her notebook, which by this time was nearly filled with barely readable scribbles from each of her visits, "Lets get to today's questions shall we?"

He rolled his eyes, "If we must, but you know the rules..."

A sigh escaped her lips, "I know I pull up an inch of skirt for every question you answer..."

"Correct."

Licking her thumb she turned to one of the last empty pages, "I want to talk about you're mother... the first time I came to see you you mentioned your absent father, but what about your mother?"

"What about her," He spat, tensing up at the word.

Barbie shrugged, "I don't know, tell me about her general, what she did for a living, things like that.."

He ran a hand back over his head, "She was a whore..." Randy told her calmly, rotating his hand to signal Barbie to hurry up with her end of the deal.

She groaned, lifting up her hemline a little, "That wasn't an inch!" He yelled, his short temper becoming clear to her for the first time.

An almost laugh past through her slightly parted lips, "And that wasn't a very good answer, you're going to have to do better if you want me to keep going."

Licking his lips at the site of her he continued, "That was her job, plain and simple, she was a streetwalker.. fucked John's in our family room while my dad was away."

The blonde smiled at his compliance and rose her skirt higher, "And did you're dad ever find out?"

Nodding Randy continued to ogle her bronzed legs, "Yeah he did, she beat the shit out of me when he left her.."

Her face grew concerned, "Why?"

"My dad was a wrestler, so one day he came home from a tour of the eastern coast and I told him mom had been having her own naked wrestling matches while he was gone. He packed his bags that day and never came back."

"And?"

Randy looked away to the blank grey wall, "She beat me until I passed out, well I assume she stopped hitting me after I blacked out."

Barbie's hand moved to her mouth in shock, "How old were you?"

He shot her a cold, blank stare, "Four."

And in that moment she felt something she never thought she would for Randy Orton...pity. "So what happened to you after that?"

A shrug fell off of his shoulders, "Some nosey teacher called social service a few years later when I kept coming to school with casts and bruises..."

Never breaking eye contact she pulled at her skirt, "Then what?"

"I went to an orphanage in St. Louis, got bounced around from foster home to foster home.. which is basically like a legal form of child enslavement. I worked to the bone for strangers who got paid to keep me, practically starved to death and was beaten more by them then I ever was at home."

Barbie felt the sting of tears in her eyes, "That's so sad."

"That's life." He smiled, "Now can I get an inch for good behaviour?"

The blonde woman sighed deeply, but obliged him, lifting the material up to reveal her thigh. Randy stared intently, waiting with anticipation for her next question, because he knew that there was only one more left until he was getting a clear shot of her underwear. Which he selfishly hoped to be some form of lacy thong, or maybe there was a god and the little tart went commando.

She was about to open her mouth again when a buzzer sounded, signalling that visiting hours were over for the day. Barbie stood up, and flattened out the wrinkles that had form in her outfit from it being continuously bunched up around her, and turned to go. "I guess that's it for the day."

He muttered something she assumed was a curse word under his breath before he said through gritted teeth that he'd see her tomorrow. And he was right about that, because she knew that she would be back with a whole knew slew of questions for him when clock struck two the following day.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3 review pleaasee :)

Barbie sat up suddenly, sweat gathered on her brow and her heartbeat pumping fiercely in her chest.

"B, you were having a nightmare, are you ok?"

The blonde looked over to see her boyfriend beside her, and she smiled in relief that she was at home in her own bed, and not where her mind had just taken her to. "Yeah I'll be ok..." She replied softly, her hand over her heart as she tried desperately to calm her breathing.

He leaned up and kissed her shoulder, "If the paper moving you to the crime department is going to get you all worked up like this I don't know if I approve."

"I'm fine John, really. Everybody has bad dreams, just go back to sleep ok?"

The west Newbury native rolled back over, "Ok, but seriously Babs I don't know if being surrounded by all this death and violence is good for you, your a very sensitive girl."

His last sentence seemed to anger her, fuck sensitive, she was tired of being protected all the time, she was tired of being looked at as the helpless and weak little girl. Pulling the blankets up to her neck she turned the opposite way from him, but she didn't think that sleep would be coming any time soon.

She closed her eyes and immediately opened them again, unable to keep them shut because of the image now burned into her brain.

It was her own lifeless corpse, naked and defiled being butchered by him..

Maybe this was her brains way of subconsciously punishing her for feeling bad for a serial killer, lots of people have it rough but they don't all run out and kill five people. She needed to stop making excuses for him, and figure out why she was so drawn to this sociopath.

John's snoring to her left pulled her from her thoughts, and she decided that since he was back to sleep and she wouldn't be getting any, that it made more sense to get up and do more research.

She headed down the spiral staircase of their east end apartment and quietly slipped into her makeshift office. The place was a complete mess, papers everywhere, and files strewn across the floor, Barbie bent down and picked up the thick one she had on Randy. It was mostly newspaper clippings and bits and pieces of what the police were releasing to the press but it was all she had.

Treading softly she made her way to the kitchen, discarded the folder on the large oak table and brewed a pot of coffee. This was going to be a long night.

The young woman plopped down on the nearest chair and flipped open her research to start combing through it again. She felt like she had done this a thousand times, yet every time she felt like she was missing something... like there was something inside that folder that was meant to pop out at her.

He hadn't really escalated, all his killings were the same, choked to death with his bare hands. That signified his power, and that his murders were sexual in nature, that takings these women's lives gratified him in a way that nothing else could. Randy had no real trademarks either, he never left anything behind, no notes, no special markings on the body. He never had a special dump site, or a real reason besides access and privacy for why he dumped each of them where he did...

All and all Randy Orton was a pretty boring subject.. yet Barbie was absolutely astonished by him. Maybe it was because he was her first crime story, or maybe it was something deeper then that.. maybe there was something else here to be fascinated about.

Biting on her thumbnail she flipped through the little bit of information she had found out through her anonymous source. Randy had flunked out of university that he had been taking by distance, not because of his grades but because of his complete termination of his work. He just stopped suddenly, and police were running under the assumption that that was when his killing spree had begun.

It was years ago and in another state, so they believe there is another set of victims out there that they may never know about. They knew for sure that Randy wouldn't give them the satisfaction of giving up the names or possible bodies.

The chilling part was that he had been taking criminology and probably used everything he learned to help prolong himself from being caught.

For hours Barbie went over and over the facts but still felt like she needed another piece to finish the puzzle, she was missing the big picture she knew it... there was something or someone out there that made this sicko tick, and she had to figure it out before it ate her up inside.


End file.
